Chapter 93 – Extra: The Drone Bee. Lian Qiao · Gu Yunlang
“Baby, are you throwing a drunken tantrum?” Fu Jin leaned back half a step, but Xiang Jin immediately leaned over instead. He lifted his tear-soaked face, cheeks wet, and said, “Let me see.”
Fu Jin felt he really must be drunk—otherwise why would he act spoiled and insist on seeing that, even using such an unprecedentedly soft, coquettish tone? When sober, hadn’t he always avoided it like the plague?
Xiang Jin nestled into his arms and held up one finger. “I just want to study it.”
Fu Jin: “Study?”
Xiang Jin blinked in confusion, his dark lashes brushing his lower lids. “You don’t understand? Then fine—let me play with it a bit.”
Fu Jin: ?
Xiang Jin treated his own delicate organ with extreme care, afraid of the slightest accident. Normally he chose the path of ‘calm the mind and let it cool naturally.’ He still didn’t know just how tough human ding-dongs were—after all, you couldn’t exactly play with other people’s.
He’d heard they were very impressive.
Xiang Jin didn’t quite believe it and wanted to confirm by touch.
Now a volunteer had conveniently fallen into his hands.
…
Human ding-dongs really were far too resilient.
Xiang Jin paid a price for his experiment: five minutes of hands-on testing, two hours of getting railed.
If he hadn’t cried so hard, gasping for breath, there might have been another two hours.
The next day when he woke up, Xiang Jin’s eyes were still red. He’d cried mostly from exhaustion—he had never been this tired in his entire life. Fu Jin had kept lying to him, saying “almost there, almost there.” What a complete liar. No one had ever made him this tired.
Xiang Jin wanted to write home to tell his mother that living off someone else was even more exhausting than farming—and not nearly as cost-effective as herding sheep.
He raised a hand to cover his face. He had no face left to show the folks back home, especially Lian Qiao, who’d come out to work with him. They’d agreed to rot together, yet he’d secretly worked for two hours… no, been worked for two hours. Same thing. Two utterly exhausting hours.
He rolled over and saw a huge sticky note on the nightstand—
[I’ve gone to a meeting. Tell me when you wake up and I’ll have food sent.]
Only then did Xiang Jin remember—there was an official meeting today. That meant all the CEOs and professional secretaries were sitting neatly in the conference room right now.
On this entire floor, the only familiar people left were him and Lian Qiao.
What a relief.
Xiang Jin hurriedly grabbed his phone with his sore, weak arms and, using the last of his strength, messaged Lian Qiao:
“Human ding-dongs are very sturdy and durable. They won’t break or fall off. I’ve tried it. Don’t be curious!”
After sending three messages, Xiang Jin immediately flopped back onto the bed like a soul-less salted fish.
He couldn’t be bothered to eat. Couldn’t be bothered to do anything. He needed to lie there like a salted fish for an entire day to comfort his damaged drone-bee dignity.
At eleven, the meeting ended. Fu Jin skipped any social engagements and hurried back with Xiang Jin’s favorite little cake.
When he left, the room had looked one way; when he returned, it looked exactly the same. The canary hadn’t flown away.
Fu Jin loosened his tie and tossed it on the table, then picked up the remote and raised the mattress so Xiang Jin could sit up. He squatted beside him, felt his forehead—thankfully no fever—then held Xiang Jin’s hand and chuckled softly. “I thought I’d wake up to a resignation letter.”
Given how hard he’d cried last night, Fu Jin had been terrified Xiang Jin would wake up and immediately call one of his brothers.
Xiang Jin said lazily, “I’m not that diligent.” There were many things in this world that could be done tomorrow.
Workplace experience told him that quitting naked was bad. At the very least, he should wait for Fu Jin to come back and help him get dressed—he couldn’t be bothered to change himself.
Fu Jin: “Can you be my wife?”
Xiang Jin shot him a look. Being a wife would mean being exhausted every day. “No.”
Fu Jin wasn’t surprised by the rejection and pressed on. “Then what about things like last night—are those still okay?”
Xiang Jin: “No!”
Fu Jin: “You’re not without needs. I’ll be faster next time, okay?”
Xiang Jin: “Even if I have needs, I won’t look for you anymore. You’re a liar.”
Fu Jin: “It was my first time too. I couldn’t control it. One more time and it’ll be fine.”
Xiang Jin eyed him suspiciously. “Really?”
Fu Jin scooped a spoonful of cake and stuffed it into his mouth. “Really. I won’t lie to you.”
Xiang Jin hadn’t eaten all morning, and his attention was instantly captured by the cake. No wonder he’d felt like he was subconsciously waiting for Fu Jin to come back.
So it was to be fed!
After one bite, Fu Jin switched to a cup of milk tea and placed the straw at his lips.
Xiang Jin took a big gulp and reluctantly believed him.
Fu Jin finally relaxed—it had been worth all the effort to find out Xiang Jin’s favorite sweets.
Xiang Jin: “Don’t check out. I don’t want to move. I want to stay another day.”
Fu Jin: “Okay.”
Xiang Jin: “And you’re not allowed to tell your good brother that we did things beyond a secretary relationship.”
Fu Jin frowned. “Which brother?” He had no habit of publicizing his private life—but why did Xiang Jin care so much?
Xiang Jin reminded him: “Gu Yunlang.”
Fu Jin: “We’re actually not that close.”
Xiang Jin: “That’s good. Don’t talk to him.”
Knock, knock. Someone knocked on the door.
Fu Jin went to open it and found a whole line of hotel robots outside, each holding a bouquet of flowers.
Did I order flowers?
He picked them up and saw the signatures: Bai He, Lin Xilan, Lian Qiao. If Fu Jin hadn’t known all of them had partners, he might’ve gotten jealous.
Xiang Jin: …Ahhhhhh, they passed by my door this morning!
Xiang Jin: “….”
After checking out, Fu Jin restrained himself from touching Xiang Jin, waiting until he healed and forgot the pain—until he wouldn’t snap—before daring to move to the next step.
Step one of boiling a frog in warm water: suggest sharing a room.
First, Fu Jin found a TV series Xiang Jin especially liked and watched it with him until he grew drowsy. Then he carried him to bed, and naturally, they ended up back on the same bed.
Step two: Fu Jin discovered that the weather clearly affected Xiang Jin’s mood. If the next day was sunny, he’d suggest kissing and hugging before bed, kissing him until he was dazed and half-consenting.
Though Xiang Jin was very quick to cry “stop”—sometimes whining to end it by the fifth minute—Fu Jin was not one to give up easily.
The drone bee was getting tricked again.
After all, he was a lazy egg. How could a lazy egg have self-control? Whatever felt good was what he did. He was completely unable to resist the evil CEO’s temptation.
He demanded setting alarms, but his phone was always out of reach. So he bought an hourglass—but President Fu often flipped it back over when Xiang Jin wasn’t paying attention.
After being deceived by “time relativity” for the seventh time, Xiang Jin resolved to resign. Resigning didn’t require telling Fu Jin.
“Do you really think you’re my boss?!” Xiang Jin packed his things. Too lazy to find a suitcase, he grabbed a black trash bag, stuffed in one set of clothes and his ID, then sat on the bed and called the Queen Bee, ready to say he was going home.
Then he’d ask Lin Xilan to book a flight and a ride. Perfect.
Before Xiang Jin could speak, the Southwest main hive group suddenly flooded with news: Meng Xueyuan was pregnant.
When the call connected, Meng Xueyuan asked worriedly, “Is work too tiring? Do you want to come stay with me for a few days?”
Xiang Jin knew Meng Xueyuan lived with nurse bees who were there to care for the pregnant queen. If he went, it’d mean one more person to take care of.
“I’m not tired. I just wanted to ask—are you uncomfortable at all?”
Meng Xueyuan laughed. “It should be a very well-behaved baby. I’m not uncomfortable at all.”
Xiang Jin’s eyes sparkled. “A very good baby? Then I can help take care of it too.”
If it were a very naughty baby, then your drone-bee uncle would be powerless.
Work was exhausting, but thinking of the queen’s hard pregnancy and the adorable baby about to be born, Xiang Jin felt he could hang on a bit longer.
For the big gold bracelet.
That night, Xiang Jin again failed to resist temptation. While being exploited by the capitalist, half-conscious, he cheered himself on.
Damn capitalist—if it weren’t for the baby, I wouldn’t last a single day.
Baby… cute baby… very good baby…
Fu Jin didn’t hear clearly and thought he wanted a baby.
Xiang Jin: “…” Why?! All his motivational chanting ended up benefiting Fu Jin?!
All told, Xiang Jin had been pretending to be a secretary for three months.
He’d gotten by by imitating Lin Xilan—but he’d missed the essence: frigidity.
That day, after much reflection, he decided to fully imitate it.
Compared to working at night, he’d rather do some actual secretary work during the day.
After watching for so long, he already knew how.
Xiang Jin: “From today on, I’m going to be your real secretary.”
Fu Jin: “Ten times the salary.”
Xiang Jin paused. “No rush on the raise. Let’s see my performance first.”
He preferred cheap things to come with no strings attached.
Xiang Jin: “Salary isn’t the point. The point is—I’m frigid now.”
Fu Jin pinched his flushed, post-activity cheeks. “So you pretend to be frigid once you’re sober, huh.”
Xiang Jin: “Not at all.” I’m just learning how to disguise myself as a qualified worker-bee secretary.
Fu Jin raised a brow. “Alright, Secretary Xiang. I have high hopes for you.”
Xiang Jin happily started being a secretary. Two days later, he witnessed the terror of the workplace.
There was too much work. It never ended. And Fu Jin stopped helping him with everything, calling it “training his abilities.”
Furious from making spreadsheets, Xiang Jin kicked out the power plug.
So mad.
Boss not around—slacking off.
That night, Fu Jin returned from a business trip, unbuttoning his shirt as he said, “You didn’t finish your work today. So—do you want to work overtime, or make it up another way?”
Xiang Jin: “…”
How did he end up living a life of three days fishing, two days drying nets?
Drying. With the sun radical.
Translated: work three days, can’t take it anymore and quit; go home and get railed for two days while Fu Jin does his work. When getting railed becomes unbearable, he scurries back to fishing again.
Until Meng Xueyuan gave birth to a cute, sweet baby.
At the one-month celebration, Xiang Jin happily went with Lian Qiao to the Lu family gathering, bringing gifts.
At the door, Xiang Jin looked at Lian Qiao, and Lian Qiao looked at Xiang Jin. They vaguely saw the shadow of an elite on each other’s faces.
“You imitate a secretary way too well.”
“You too.”
You don’t notice until you meet—then you’re shocked. The two observed each other like mirrors, hearts churning, unable to calm down for a long time.
After finishing their “mirror check,” they fell silent.
Xiang Jin said, “No one but family will endlessly tolerate a lazy egg.”
Back in Baihua Village, they could freely reveal their true selves. But in the high-pressure CBD of the city, they feared standing out, feared being disliked. Human instinct drove them to adapt—just like at school, where everyone studies, even a lazy egg has to study.
“Yes. We’ve both changed without realizing it.”
Staying long among orchids, one no longer smells their fragrance. Without noticing, they’d changed in the direction the CEOs liked.
This change couldn’t be called good or bad. On the good side, life felt fuller, and they’d grown used to it—each day was fairly happy. But even without changing, their clan would always have their backs. After months away, even Aunt Taohua, who used to encourage living off others, missed the days when the village had two lazy eggs, even hinting that they could come home anytime. That was probably a universal maternal trait—but normal CEOs didn’t have that illness.
CEOs probably preferred wives who doubled as secretaries—like Older Lu and Second Lu.
But that wasn’t their nature.
At the same time, Xiang Jin and Lian Qiao had the same thought: to return to who they were before the change.
It was time to end this fantastical Nan Cheng working adventure and return to their true selves.
They hit it off immediately. That very night, saying they were escorting the old Queen Bee to the airport, they went through security—and boarded a plane straight home.
